


Dreams and Demons

by Casey_Enough



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Older Work of Mine, Originally Posted Elsewhere, Plot, Shadowhunters - Freeform, Temporary Character Death, Warning: Some Violence, mostly angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-05 00:16:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5353667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casey_Enough/pseuds/Casey_Enough
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clary's Shadowhunter training has been relatively uneventful... until the demon fight which changes her life. Soon her nightmares are becoming reality. Will they be able to stop the demon which haunts her, or will it be too late? Set post City of Glass, I don't think there are spoilers past that. Lots of Angst and Fluff (mostly Clace, but I tossed in some Malec because I love 'em). Warning: some battle-type violence descriptions, ought to be fine if you're okay with the level of violence in the series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on moving this one over- it's almost entirely written, so I ought to be able to post it pretty quickly, I just want to keep the segments I originally wrote it in. And, a word for the wise, this is some of my older fic (an antique!) so take it easy on me, and enjoy!

It’s an odd sort of sentiment, upon being bitten by an enormous demon, to think-  
Not again. 

But then again, most things about Clary Fray’s life were sort of odd. Including, but not limited to, the demon who was currently crushing her side. Haphazardly, she began to swing her glowing seraph blade in it’s general direction, blinded by the pain of her wound. But the creature’s head seemed to dart inches away from the arc of her blade, it’s teeth sinking further into her with each passing second. 

“Clary!” she heard from a distance, and winced. It was Jace, the distress ringing clear in his voice. The others, Jace, Alec, and Isabelle, had better things to do (or, rather, stab repeatedly) than constantly play knight in shining armor. In the handful of demon battles she’d fought in since beginning her Shadowhunter training, for the most part she’d held her own, only sustaining minor injuries and learning to keep her head in battle. But the demon she currently faced was particularly cunning- and really unlike any she’d ever seen. 

Suppressing a scream, she hacked with finality at the demon’s nearest extremity- it’s acidic, powerful mouth, currently doing her the most damage. The jaws released her with a gurgling hiss, and she dropped several feet to the floor of the dusty warehouse where they were currently battling. She landed painfully on her bad side, surprised by how quickly she was becoming dizzy from the wound. The demon, on the other hand, which she had originally thought was a Ravener given it’s insectile form and massive jaws, seemed relatively unaffected. Dislodging the steaming seraph blade with a forceful shake of head, the beast reared it’s head back as if ready to finish her off. She’d never seen a demon so unaffected by the angelic metal before. It completely baffled her. The shock and pain from her injury coupled with this knowledge left her totally unsure of how to continue, and totally unable to defend herself, as the demon began to descend on her. 

“Jace.” she whispered, and she was aware in that moment of the silence of the room around her. The sounds of battle, clashing blades and panicked breaths and hissing demons, had halted or stopped completely. It was entirely possible that the other three had disposed of all the other demons while she had been caught up with this one. It was also possible, she thought grimly, that she was dying. Demon poison took no prisoners, and the constant burning and aching of the wound at her side told her that whatever the hell this thing was, it was definitely poisonous. Looming directly above her, it was nothing more than a blurry mass of gnashing teeth and dripping ichor. It’s eyes, like many demons, were large and pure black, focusing in on her with uncharacteristic purpose. It was like something out of her nightmares. 

This is how Shadowhunters are supposed to die, she thought. In battle. Defending people. Killing demons. But even if she could come to terms with that, she couldn’t come to terms with the fact that the last thing she would see would be this hideous… thing. Curling up slightly, she allowed herself to shut her eyes, and find that face that always floated just inches behind her eyelids. Her beautiful golden boy. Her Jace. Even in her mind, he seemed to illuminate the impending darkness, with memories of him laughing, smile flashing with his adorable chipped tooth, him playing the piano as she sat next to him on the bench, leaning against him so she could feel the music leaving his fingers and flying out into the air, him holding her and for once everything feeling right in the world. A single tear tracing it’s way along her cheek, she braced herself for the blow that would end her life. 

And it didn’t come. 

Lifting a single eyelid, she saw him. As if her thoughts had brought him to life, he stood before her, blazing with the glow of an avenging angel, facing the demon which had taken her down. Seeing him face the demon, was like looking at a ying-yang symbol. On one side was Jace, alight with witchstone and seraph blade and the glinting gold of his hair, dark Marks standing out like stains against his skin where his gear ended. On the other side, the demon- a seething mass of blackness and shadow, the light from Jace bouncing off his unblinking eyes and blood-slicked jaws. For several moments, they seemed to size each other up. Then, they danced. 

Biting back a whimper, Clary used what was left of her waning strength to prop herself up to a sitting position against a nearby wall, too afraid to formally assess her wounds. She was vaguely aware of two familiar dark-haired faces shifting around the edges of her vision, gesturing gravely and speaking loudly at her. But it was as if their voices were filtering down through a swimming pool. Waving away their concerns, she pointed over at Jace, who was currently driving a blade up through the underbelly of the massive demon, wincing at the resulting spray of viscous ichor. 

“Jace,” she murmured, aware of how pathetic she must sound to them. “Help him.” To her dismay, they shook their heads. Isabelle crouched down, extending a hand towards the wound which dominated Clary’s left side. 

“Jesus, Clary.” she said, hesitating several inches from actually touching it. Her eyes shone with concern as they met Clary’s. “This is bad. Really bad.”

Clary caught Isabelle’s hand, entwining it weakly in her own. “Isabelle.” she said. “Alec,” she added, glancing up at his blue eyes. “Please.”

Isabelle lowered her eyes for a moment, her long dark hair obscuring her face. Clary could tell she was torn. But slowly, she raised her eyes and nodded her head, turning to launch herself into battle with Jace. Now only Alec remained- lingering conflictedly, like a cat unsure whether it wanted to be indoors or out. Suddenly, he reached down to touch her face- an uncharacteristically warm gesture from a person who had once hated her. Then he, too, turned to join the fight. 

 

Clary exhaled, painfully, knowing that the wall was the only thing keeping her upright. The trickling fire of the demon poison was spreading outward through her veins like acid, burning her alive from the inside out. Finally alone, she allowed her face to contort in it’s true pain. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt before- even unlike the poison of other demon’s. She knew, if left untreated, it would kill her quickly. And there was nothing she could really do to treat it, not properly, only slow it. Numbly reaching an arm into the pocket of her torn gear, she pulled out a stele. However, the iratze she sketched on with a faint sensation she had once described as burning disappeared almost as quickly as she had drawn it. And what’s more, it further sapped her energy. Her arm fell to her lap uselessly, stele still clutched in her slender fingers. She focused her energy on keeping her eyes open and trained on the fight in front of her.

In the distance, the battle was seemingly drawing to a close. The combined force, cunning, and speed of the Lightwood family appeared to be too much for even this demon to overcome. They seemed to move together like clockwork, not just the parabatai Jace and Alec, but Isabelle too, with the familiarity and foresight of people who’d battled their whole lives together. As the demon launched itself at one of them, another drew it away, and the third sunk a dagger into it’s back. Clary wondered vaguely if, given enough time, she could have ever reached this level of synchronicity and grace with them.

She supposed she would never really know.

The thought pierced the fuzziness of her mind like a shard of ice. Despite her best efforts to stay awake, despite Jace and Alec and Isabelle’s best efforts to slay the demon, despite all her training and all her runes, she was dying. Not just dying, but dying alone, in a corner in an abandoned factory where the Clave had been anonymously informed demonic presences had been off the charts recently. They weren’t wrong. She should call her mother, or, god forbid, Simon. But her phone was in the gear bag, which they had left outside. She would settle for just having Jace nearby. For the first time since being wounded, true despair colored her thoughts, making her shudder. 

As if it could sense her emotion from across the room, the demon glanced up at her. And, disturbingly, it smiled. Or at least that was the closest way Clary could describe it, though there was nothing warm or friendly in this smile. This was the smile of a cat who finally had a rodent trapped beneath it’s paws, on the mouth of a demon. It almost made her ill. 

Then, it was gone. Not just the smile, but the entire demon seemed to dissolve into cloud of ashen black smoke. For several seconds, the three Shadowhunters stood dazed, blades suddenly slicing through smoke and nothingness. Then, as quickly as the demon had vanished, Jace spun to face Clary. And, not caring whether or not the demon would reappear, he ran to her, sliding on his knees down to reach her more quickly. 

 

“Jace.” she mumbled, hands pushing uselessly at the slick ground below her, seeking a way to move closer to him, to hold him. “Ah.” she whispered, cursing the pain that shot through her body as she moved. A look of acute horror blossomed over Jace’s face as he assessed her wound, which was still leaking blood, slowly soaking the tattered remains of her gear jacket, fusing it to her body. The demon’s teeth had sunk deep into her side, leaving a several pairs of raw punctures. It was from there that the fire which now seemingly consumed her body stemmed, but it was spreading by the minute. Clary felt unbearably hot, and she could tell she was sweating, but she could feel her body shaking as well, as if she had a bad fever. To be fair, she probably did. Her breathing was becoming shallow and choppy, and she shook her head as Jace reached for the stele in her hand. 

“It won’t help.” she said, her voice fading but urgent. “I’ve already tried.” Jace’s eyes burned into hers, gold and blurry and familiar. Gently, impossibly gently, he reached a hand to caress her face. Even with her body wracked with pain, his touch was comforting, and her heart seemed to flutter. 

“Alec!” he called without taking his eyes off hers. “Call Magnus!” His voice tremored with an unfamiliar uncertainty. He was scared. 

“I already have.” came the reply from nearby. Another time, maybe she would have been able to lift her eyes from Jace’s to acknowledge Alec. But she urgently needed to hold his gaze. A vague corner of her mind knew it was the only thing still tethering her to consciousness. Another wave of burning pain passed through her, however, and her hand flew to her side, an involuntary gasp of pain escaping her mouth. 

“Jace.” she whispered, her vision misting over. “It hurts.” She sounded like a petulant child to herself, but Jace’s face filled with an impossible pain, as if it was him who was wounded. 

“Clary…” he breathed, pulling her closer to him, ignoring her shaking and burn of the ichor surrounding her wounds as it touched his skin. “I know. I’m sorry, I know it hurts. I’m so sorry.” 

For a moment, all she could sense was his warmth around her, his heartbeat against her ear. She breathed him in, all sweat and arcid ichor and dust and somehow distinctly Jace, like sunshine and citrus and soap. She had been unaware of her own tears until she saw them, caught on the front of his shirt. Then the fire reached her fingertips and she clutched balled her fists in his shirt, just to have something to hold onto. Her breaths shuddered in and out of her lungs, and it felt not like a natural rhythm, but something she had to struggle to do. She knew she didn’t have long, and she should talk to him, but his voice was so sweet in her ears he was impossible to interrupt. 

 

“Clary. Please stay with me. Magnus is on his way, he knows how to deal with these things. He’s done it before. He’s even done it to you before. You’re going to be f-fine.” His voice was husky with unseen tears. Shadowhunters don’t cry, she thought. Distantly, she remembered a story of a boy and his falcon, but Jace’s voice brought her back to reality. “Clary? Please just say something. Clary, I need you to be okay.” 

“Jace,” she breathed against the darkness beginning to eat away at the corners of her vision. He turned her head up gently to face him, and even in her condition his name sounded like a song on her tongue. The sweetest thing she could say. Well, maybe the second-sweetest. “Jace, I love you.” His gold eyes burned into hers, and he leaned down to plant a single kiss on her lips, soft and slow and burning. 

“I love you too, Clary. More than anything.” he spoke against her mouth, eyes still locked on hers. Then, he clenched them shut, and Clary felt a tear fall against her cheek. She made no motion to brush it away. In fact, she could make no motion to do anything. Just as his eyes opened once more, hers closed. 

And the darkness and stillness finally consumed her.


	2. Chapter 2

JACE 

“No…” Jace breathed, unable to move, unable to feel, unable to do anything more than stare helplessly at the small, unmoving body which he clutched gently but desperately in his arms. He hated being helpless- his whole life, even after coming to live with the Lightwood’s, he had never needed anyone. He’d learned to trust and depend on Alec and Izzy, but that had taken years. Then she had walked into his life, and torn the rug out from underneath him and everything he believed in. He became so vulnerable, so utterly dependent on that red-haired girl that if he even imagined life without her, the pain was palpable and physical. As it was now. 

He had watched her shudder, and cry in pain, and struggle to breathe, and every gasp of pain and tear had torn through him like a tiny razor blade. Now he was raw, chest aching with tears he had been holding back which now spilled out over his face. They felt alien and wrong, like his body was malfunctioning. But clutching the barely breathing body of the girl he loved more than the rest of the world, he couldn’t stop them. 

“Jace.” a gentle voice near him accompanied that face that swam into the forefront of his vision. It was Alec, his black hair standing out starkly against his face, which was paler than normal and tinged with shock. “Jace, Magnus is here. He needs to look at the… he needs to see her. You need to let go.” Jace looked down slowly to realize he was clutching Clary to him, not hard enough to hurt her under normal circumstances, but desperately, his knuckles white and shaking. 

“I…” his voice was surprisingly clear, but low with grief. “I can’t. I don’t think I can.” 

“Jace, please.” replied Alec meekly. “For her.” 

But before he could attempt to let go, something changed. The faint rhythm of her heartbeat, her shallow breathing, had slowed to a stop. “No,” said Jace, voice rising slightly. “NO.” She was… she was… she couldn’t be.


	3. Chapter 3

ALEC

Several feet away from Jace, Alec stopped reaching out for him, sinking to his knees. His arms dangled limply at his sides. Behind him a hand to rest on his shoulder, cold from the outdoors, or perhaps the windblown effect of Portal travel. It was Magnus, having arrived only seconds ago to find this horrible scene playing out before his eyes. His eyes, normally ringed in kohl or glitter, were wide, confused. After staring at the floor for several seconds, Alec rose slowly to his feet, turning to face Magnus and shaking his head once, solemnly.

Magnus’ face grew sad, but somehow knowing, and Alec found himself once again remembering exactly how old Magnus actually was- and how many people he’d lost. He seemed to look through Alec momentarily, to where Jace still sat silently weeping. Magnus came back into focus on Alec then, gesturing backwards with a jerk of head to a further alcove of the room. Isabelle had disappeared outside to notify the Clave, Jocelyn, Simon. Alec followed Magnus back numbly, stumbling over a pile of sludge that had once been a Raum demon.

“What happened?” asked Magnus, lacking his usual flair and charisma. His face was a shifting mix of concern and confusion and, glancingly, grief. Alec inhaled a deep breath, still stunned, and braced himself to tell the story. He wasn’t even fully sure that he understood it, but he would try.

“We were at the Institute when they got the call. Anonymous line, traceless, reported demonic activity in this block. Now- normally we don’t trust leads like this.” Alec began, knitting his eyebrows together in a frown. His voice was business-like, debriefing. “The Clave has plenty of enemies that would love to lure a few Shadowhunters into the middle of nowhere and do god-knows-what. But the voice on the other end of this line, Magnus. It was… compelling. I can’t describe it.” Alec stared at his hands, clearing his throat before continuing the story. “It was me, Jace, Izzy, and Clary- she was training, you know- and we decided to check it out. I mean, we took every precaution. Even Clary’s been in several demon fights. It’s what we do. When we came in, there were a few demons, but nothing we hadn’t dealt with before. There were four or five… Raum, Drevak… So I took on one or two, Izzy and Jace too. Clary was fine. I don’t… I don’t know what happened. Suddenly there was this new demon. Like it had appeared out of nowhere. And if I hadn’t already been fighting the two- maybe I could have-” Alec drew in a shuddering breath. Magnus watched with passive concern, reaching out to take his hand.

“Alexander Lightwood.” he said firmly. “I’m sure whatever it was that happened, it was not your fault.” Alec looked up, nodding halfheartedly. “But I do need to know what happened.” He squeezed Alec’s hand lightly. Sighing, Alec continued the story.

“This demon… it wasn’t one that I’ve ever seen. I thought it was a Ravener at first, but it was bigger. Darker. Smarter. It came right at Clary, as if she was the entire reason it was there. Maybe she was. I don’t know. But she started fighting it- I only caught glimpses. That is, until it attacked her. Bit… bit her.” Alec rested a hand at his side, almost subconsciously. “We had pretty much finished off the others, so we went to help her. It had… dropped her by then.” He winced, but continued. “Jace… well, you know Jace. He was ready to rip this thing to shreds. He was on it immediately. Me and Izzy went to see if Clary was okay. It was bad, Magnus, really bad.” he glanced up, eyes shining at the memory. “But nothing we hadn’t seen before, to some degree or another. She sent us to go help Jace. Of course she did. And I listened to her.” He glanced down, castigating himself mentally. Magnus tipped Alec’s chin up gently, nodding at him to continue. “I couldn’t let Jace fight that thing alone. Even the three of us were barely a match for it- and we didn’t even kill it. Not really. After a few minutes it just- sort of- disappeared. Evaporated. And we didn’t have time to worry about where it went. Clary… wasn’t doing well, already. I don’t know what kind of venom that thing had, but it was fast-acting. I called you, then. You’ve dealt with this sort of thing. I don’t- I thought we’d have more time!” His voice rose suddenly then, as if for the first time he fully realized exactly what ending his story had. One where Clary- his best friend and brother’s love, his close friend- had died. She was dead. “Jesus, she’s dead. She died.”

Magnus reached for him then, and he obliged. He hadn’t realized he was shivering, but Magnus’s arms were warm and comforting. He didn’t cry, but he leaned heavily on Magnus for support, as if the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

“I know, Alexander.” Magnus said sadly against his neck. “I know.”


	4. Chapter 4

JACE

There were people all around him. He knew that. Within fifteen minutes of the calls Isabelle had made, people had begun to trickle into the room, passing by with various sentiments like a viewing. His fists clenched at the thought. A viewing was too close to reality. First had come the nearest Clave officials, and he’d watched at a distance as Alec and Isabelle told the story in hushed segments, glancing at him when they reached certain phrases like “bitten” or “poison” or… that one. That one that sounded like it belonged on a battlefield, or in his past, nowhere near them today. Dead. Dead, died, dying, and every other iteration of the word had washed over his ears at one point during the story. And it stung him, silently. He knew what that meant, the Clave being there. They were going to take her away from him. As they well should- that was the way things were done. A shadowhunter died fighting a demon- they were taken to the Silent City or the nearest Institute and prepared for their funeral rites. There would be an unembellished ceremony, and they would burn the body. He would wear white- fitting for an angel, she would have said. And his fists clenched again. 

He knew that they’d want to take her away before her mother, or Luke, or Simon arrived, if they’d even been notified. But somehow, while he still kept her warm in his arms, he could pretend she was just sleeping, like the night he left her in Idris. He hadn’t known then if he was ever going to see her again. Now he knew. And the thought of her never rising, green eyes never opening, mouth never smiling, make his heart clench like someone was crushing it in their fist. 

People drifted over to him and said words at him, and on some level, he heard and understood them. But the majority of his mind was consumed by a constant, white noise-like pain, psychological pain, that he was either unready or unwilling to deal with. So when they approached him, he just shook his head and looked down until Alec led them away. He had waited too long, he knew, holding onto her. Because now he was fairly certain that when she was taken away from him, he might actually shatter. Like she was the one little element binding him together, and when she was gone, he would topple like a felled Jenga puzzle. A vague memory flashed in his mind of Clary attempting to teach him the joy of board games. He had heartily rejected Simon’s offer of Settlers of Catan, been bored by Monopoly, and failed to see the point of trying to keep the tower intact in Jenga, repeatedly knocking it over just for fun, much to Clary’s dismay and amusement. 

Suddenly, it was too much. The collision of this moving, breathing, light-filled person from his memory and this unmoving, cooling body in his arms was too much. He knew what he had to do. With as much grace as he’d had at his most stable, he rose from the dusty corner where he’d been sitting and, after leaning down to touch her face one more time, walked across the suddenly hushed room. Quickly, he found the faces he was looking for. Clustered several feet away from the Clave members were Alec, Isabelle, and Magnus, all of whom traced his approach with faked apathy. Isabelle’s makeup was smudged in several places, and Alec was pale and sickly looking. Even Magnus looked vaguely unwell, running a hand through his hair repeatedly. 

He approached them gingerly, like he was walking over broken glass. Clearing his throat, he spoke for the first time in several minutes. 

“I’d like to go home.” Jace said, and the other three noted, heartbreakingly, that he sounded like the very small child they had never known him to be- the secret homesick child who had been taught not to love. 

And together the four of them walked home in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit dark, I know, but trust me- it gets lighter (read: fluffier) in a couple chapters if you stick it out. Or, if you're anything like me, you might just live for the angst- plenty more of that, too.


	5. Chapter 5

CLARY

This darkness wasn’t unpleasant. As a child, during her sleepovers with Simon, she’d never needed a nightlight like she had during the rest of the week. His presence, another warm body in the bed, had been enough to convince her the dark wasn’t her enemy. She’d found that peace with Jace, in Idris. And now she found it again, in this floating darkness which surrounded her.  
It was warm, like Jace’s arms around her, she thought with a pang. Jace’s face flashed against the darkness briefly, as if that much light didn’t belong in a place like this. 

But before she really had time to ponder it, the darkness began to shift around her. Suddenly, she wasn’t floating, she was sinking. It was as if she had been sunbathing on the edge of a lake, and she was now being dragged underwater. She became suddenly and painfully aware of the fact that she was not breathing. Her lungs protested. But it was like there was a pressure, pushing her down further into the water, and keeping her from opening her mouth. Then , suddenly it was gone. 

Sitting up with a tremendous gasp, Clary’s eyes opened to a vaguely familiar scene. At first she was blinded by the sudden influx of light. Then, slowly, as her eyes adjusted, she found herself inside of a room. Wooden arches trailed upwards towards a high ceiling full of murals. She realized with surprise that she knew where she was. She’d been here before. Hell, she’d pulled this exact stunt before- wake up in recovery from a demon-fighting injury. But… Scenes from the fight played out behind her eyelids rapidly- the demon appearing and disappearing, the bite, Jace whispering through tears that he loved her. She winced, not just at the memory of the injury, but the pain in his voice as she faded away. Serious didn’t even begin to describe it- that injury had been deadly. 

So how had she woken up? 

Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who wondered that. 

Across the room stood a handful of very-shocked looking people. A woman who Clary instantly recognized as Maryse Lightwood was the first she noticed. She held a shaking hand to her mouth as she made eye contact with Clary. The only other occupants of the room were two Silent Brothers. She could hear the mental equivalent of their gasps of shock- and not much shocked a silent brother. Instantly, she felt them prodding at her mind, and she winced. It was too much, too fast. Their semi-formed whispers overlapped cacophonously in her mind. She caught several words but never a full sentence- demon, poison, and a lot of question words- what, why, how long. It was Maryse who finally offered a distinct sentence. 

“Clary?” she said quietly, cautiously. “Is that you?” Maryse was the head of an Institute, and not just any Institute, but the Institute of one of the most populous and busy cities in the world. She had fought in battles, lost a child, and even faced the Clave for punishment after Valentine’s uprising. She was not the kind of woman who wasted time being hesitant or fearful, and her voice did not shake. But her face was pale, her hair stretched haphazardly into a tight bun. She took one step towards Clary, then two steps back. 

“Is Jace okay?” The words seemed to bubble up out of her mouth against her will, coming out a bit harshly through her paper-dry throat. For a moment, the prodding in her head stopped as if the Brothers were holding their breath. Then they retracted, and nodded at Maryse. 

“Oh, god, Clary. Oh, my god, it’s really you.” she rushed over to the bedside, sitting tentatively on the bed opposite her. Clary frowned. “Really you.” she thought. As opposed to who?

As opposed to a dead body, or a demon. Thought the Silent Brother in her head. She didn’t recognize his presence, so they mustn't have met. But she could sense his hesitance, as if he were still unsure he should be talking to her. 

Clary pushed herself up to a more elevated position, surprised at the ease with which she found herself able to- or at least lack of pain. Her hand flew to her side. She found that she was no longer wearing her torn gear jacket or pants, but a clean T-shirt and the loose cotton pants he normally associated with training exercises. Lifting up the side of her shirt, she suppressed a gasp. The wound wasn’t gone, by any means, but it was healing as if someone had put an iratze on it. 

“What’s happening?” she said rapidly. Seeing their confusion, she amended her question slightly. “What happened?” 

“Clary…” Maryse began softly, unsure what exactly to say. “You died.” 

“I don’t… I’m not… I don’t understand.” Clary whispered, drawing her knees back against her chest. Her wound protested the change in position, but she ignored it. Maryse continued. 

“You were in a battle with a demon. We still don’t know what kind of demon, but it was poisonous. You were attacked. Bitten. And we got there as soon as would could, but by the time Magnus had reached you, you were already gone.” She leaned forward slightly, concern knitting her brows together. “You stopped breathing, Your heart stopped beating.”

“No,” Clary interrupted. Maryse ignored her. 

“They wanted to take you to the Silent City for observation. The demon that killed you- it was concerning. Even demon venom tends not to kill that quickly. And Alec said that they hadn’t even really killed it- it just disappeared-”  
“Oh god… Alec? Isabelle? They’re okay?” a new thought sparked in her mind, blossoming painfully against her will. “They think I’m dead. Jace- he thinks I’m dead?”

Maryse didn’t respond, but her eyes grew distant and sad, as if recalling a painful memory. 

“I need to see him. You need to tell them, Maryse!” Clary’s voice increased in pitch with a rising hysteria. The Silent Brothers in the back of room took a step forward threateningly, as if warning her to keep her voice down. Beginning to hyperventilate, she turned back to Maryse, who waited for her to calm down before responding. 

“This state…” she began cautiously. “We’re just not sure if it’s… permanent. And we don’t want to make them go through anything… unnecessary. Do you understand?” 

Clary sank back into the pillows, deflating. All the manic energy of the moment before had left her body. “You think I’m going to die again, don’t you? You don’t want them to get their hopes up.” 

Maryse winced slightly at the word ‘again’, but shook her head. “It’s… unlikely.” she said. “Whatever effect the demon poison had seems to have worn off. But there’s a small chance that the effects will come back, that this is just an aberration. And if that’s the truth, it’s only going to make the second time that much worse.” She was businesslike in her explanation, and Clary nodded along. 

“Maryse… if it’s true that I’m going to die again- and I know how selfish this sounds- I need to see him. Whatever time I have, I need to spend with him. And my mom, and Simon, Luke, and Alec and Izzy. I… I need a chance to say goodbye.” Clary responded, picking at the blanket covering her. Maryse leaned back as if actually considering her plea. Then , defeatedly, she nodded. Oddly, Clary felt no rush of victory. Just, a slow, churning emptiness. But Maryse interrupted her thoughts with a condition. 

“I have to let the Silent Brothers examine you. It will take fifteen, twenty minutes most. I’ll go explain the situation to the others. If they deem you visitor ready, they can visit. But Clary…” she trailed off, her voice taking a warning tone. “If you prove to be a threat, I won’t hesitate to do what’s best for everyone. You must know that.” Clary nodded solemnly, fists shaking with anticipation as Maryse receded towards the door. She turned then to speak to the Silent Brothers. 

“You might want to rune the door to only open from the inside- once he finds out she’s alive, Jace will tear down the walls to see her.” Clary’s heart constricted, and all too soon, Maryse was gone. 

Shall we begin? A voice, non-threatening, but ominous enough to make her shiver, prodded at the inside of her mind. Sighing, she closed her eyes and braced herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I realize that the dialogue with the Silent Brothers (and all the thought stuff) is a bit confusing- I used italics in my original document, and they didn't transfer. The lazy editor resigns herself to semi-coherence, sorry comrades.


	6. Chapter 6

JACE 

Jace stared across the room, silently thankful for it’s obsessive cleanliness. There was very little here to remind him of her. All he could see was the white blankness of the walls, and the gray asphalt of the street outside his window. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught glimpses of color, but he tried to ignore them. All he wanted was blankness. He wanted blank walls, and he wanted a blank mind to try to escape this overwhelming pain. 

Clary didn’t really like to talk about the time when he had been dead. For one thing, it was brief, and she had saved his life. But he thought it was also painful for her to remember. And now he knew why. Even so soon after it had happened, he felt her absence like a gaping black hole, slowly swallowing him, crushing him in it’s extreme gravity. He was aware that he had changed his clothes, running on autopilot, and that just outside of the corner of his vision in the rubbish bin he had stuffed his abused gear. Some of it had been melted by poison, but the majority of it had only been stained. Stained with her blood, though. The thought made him sick, and he swallowed, the lump in his throat becoming painful. 

In a twisted way, he almost wished he’d sustained more injuries. It would have given him something to focus on, to take his mind off this psychological torture. But he’d landed with cuts and bruises, and Clary had…

He jumped up to pace the room, the stillness suddenly driving him mad. Emotion was overwhelming him, despite all of his careful training to smother it. He knew there was nothing he could do, nothing that would ever possibly extinguish this uneasing grief. Sinking to his knees, he ran a hand through his hair, a little too strongly, leaving it partially upright with golden loops and curls. He was shaking all over, and though the tears had stopped falling, he was certain he’d never truly stopped crying. Defeated, he crawled over to the spot of color that stood out like an out of place puzzle piece in his orderly room. It was a photograph, taped carefully to the wall, of him and Clary. Even in two dimensions, her beauty took his breath away in a way no one else ever had. He’d grown up his whole life wielding his attractiveness like nothing more than another weapon he could use. She had always been so completely and stunningly unaware of her own, somehow managing to impress him in sweaters and jeans. And he had loved her. Oh, how he loved her. You could even see it the photograph, his eyes gleaming when he looked at her, his smile genuine. But to stare at her wild red hair, her sparkling green eyes, was nothing short of torture now. Still, he clutched the photograph, unable to tear his eyes away from it, allowing his heart to be rended apart completely. A portion of the photograph suddenly became blurry, and he touched it with confusion before realizing what it was. A tear. He was crying again. In another life, he would have been embarrassed at all the tears he’d shed that day. But he was seemingly numb to any emotion other than grief and pain. 

A soft knock at the door sparked his attention. It was Alec and Isabelle, and they entered the room before he had time to protest. Remembering the tears on his face, it was all he could do to lift the photograph in explanation.  
Alec nodded and gently pried the photo from his hands- Jace hadn’t realized he’s been slowly crumpling it into a ball by accident. He only nodded- he wasn’t ready to speak yet. Evidently, however, they were. 

“Jace…” Isabelle began. Her voice was low. “I don’t even know how to begin. I just… we’re here for you. You know that. Whatever we can do.” She glanced over at Alec, nudging him to continue. For similar as Jace and Isabelle had always been, Alec had a way with words. He could be clever, or biting, or in this case comforting if he needed to be. And right now, he needed to be. But staring at the pain carved into his best friend’s hollow expression, he found himself struggling to speak. Instead, he simply sat down next to him, and Isabelle followed suit. Together they circled him in warmth, all staring at the wall together. And slowly, very slowly, his shaking began to ease. 

After several minutes, Jace cleared his throat, certain that he wanted to say something, but totally lost on what. But he would never have the chance to find out. 

At that second, the door of the room swung open, revealing Maryse, with Magnus trailing several feet behind her. Alec rose quickly to protest the intrusion, but Maryse made a hand gesture to cut him off. Jace only sunk back further against the wall. He wasn’t sure what she wanted to say, but he was almost entirely sure it would roll off him like rain on a window pane. 

Nothing could possibly have prepared him for what Maryse was about to say. 

“She’s awake.” Maryse said abruptly, looking like she’d seen a ghost, or something more unravelling. “Clary is awake- or alive- and she’s healing.”

Jace rose almost reflexively to his feet, glancing from Maryse to the wide-eyed Magnus and back repeatedly without fully comprehending. His jaw was set, and his hands were clenched into fists. “If this is some kind of sick joke… ” he said in a deadly whisper, trailing off ominously. But even his racing mind couldn’t comprehend a possible reason why Maryse would lie to him about something like this- unless this was some kind of grief induced vision. A tiny crack appeared in the ice which had filled his veins. And with it, all the hostility melted from his face, replaced with a puerile vulnerability. “I need to see her,” he said tonelessly, already moving to push past Maryse and Magnus, mind locked on the image of his Clary breathing, awake. 

Unsurprisingly, but still rather annoyingly, Maryse caught his shoulder, gently stopping him in the doorframe. “There are a lot of factors we don’t fully understand at play here, Jace. The demon she was fighting disappeared without a trace, and before we were able to identify it. And there was the fact that it’s entirely possible that this was some kind of set-up, given the anonymous call. Not to mention she was dead, Jace. Not just unconscious, but properly dead. You felt her heart stop.” Jace flinched away from her touch at the memory. Maryse continued regardless. “We just don’t know what happened, and if it will happen again. We’re not even sure if she’ll stay this way, or for how long. The Silent Brothers are in there with her now, they’re examining her to see if there’s any immediate threat.” She didn’t say to who. “When they clear her, you can go see her.” Jace shuddered, imagining not just Clary alone in that room, being mentally scourged by Silent Brothers, but Clary waking up, confused and probably in pain, and him being nowhere in sight. 

“Maryse.” he said softly, not turning to face her. “I need to see her.” 

Mayrse managed to catch his eye. “I know,” she said. “And I’m sorry.” Then she turned, and disappeared back down the hall into her office, probably to make calls to the Clave, leaving a very lost Jace to stare panickedly at Alec, Isabelle, and Magnus. Their eyes were as wide as his likely were, but he met them for only a second. 

Then he turned soundlessly and ran towards the Infirmary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some heavy stuff, I know, but things are looking up for our pair. Don't you fret.


	7. Chapter 7

JACE

Jace had thought that the the emptiness he’d felt after Clary’s death was torturous. And it had been. But this waiting, this slow miserable waiting, might actually drive him insane. After several fruitless minutes of pounding on the door, even attempting to use an “Open” rune, he’d come to the conclusion that they’d runed the door shut. And what was worse, they’d closed off the room entirely, for privacy, so that even his Shadowhunter ears couldn’t pick up on any sound from the inside. Not a heartbeat or a whisper. That was all he really needed- a heartbeat. Some indication that she was there. That she was still alive. Every second that passed in silence was more than he could handle. He’d tried pacing, practicing flips, and even hitting his head repeatedly against the wall. Nothing helped. He still felt every moment pass by with hideous longevity. 

Currently, he sat on the floor, back resting against the wall which the hallway shared with the Infirmary. He wasn’t sure where she was in the room, or even if she was in one of the beds against that wall, but it felt like his best chance to be close to her. All the while, in the Infirmary, the Silent Brothers were prodding and slicing at her mind, seeking any malevolent presence, any indication of what exactly had happened. He diverted his attention quickly, picking at the plaster of the wall where it met the dark moulding of the wood. If Maryse had seen him, see would have lost it. And he just didn’t care. 

The silence stretched on.  
Alec and Isabelle and Magnus appeared at the end of the hallway, hovering. 

And on.  
Mayrse stopped by to speak to Magnus in a hushed voice. 

And on.  
The information trickled down to him that Luke and Jocelyn had been at the farm, preparing for the wedding. They were coming back as quickly as they could, but it would be a couple hours. 

And on. 

Until finally, the handle of the door turned with a slow click. 

Jace jolted to his feet, almost exactly like when Mayrse had entered his room what felt like an eternity ago. A Silent Brother hovered in the door frame, clearly still barring his entrance. A second Brother trailed behind him. He turned to look at Jace, though he could tell he was addressing all of them. 

We have no reason to believe her condition will worsen. He said, and Jace didn’t even allow himself to feel relief. He just needed to get into that room. However- the Silent Brother began, and Jace felt his heart sink- We still don’t know what happened. We’re not in the clear yet, and we will be back periodically to monitor her. But for now, you may visit her. 

He hadn’t even stepped aside and Jace was already past him, hearing the door close behind him. He could feel his heart beating in his throat as his eyes scraped the room. There she was- in a bed against the wall he had been leaning against. She looked, as she often did, very small and very still. For a moment he was frozen, gripped in the memory of her becoming still in his arms not long ago. As long as he would live, he would never forget the way that had torn him apart. But then she turned, sitting up slowly, shattering the icy stillness of the room. She looked tired, and pale with pain, but for once Jace wasn’t prepared to be gentle with her. Her eyes widened when she saw Jace, and he crossed the room in three wide steps.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now this is some angsty, fluffy fluff. Read, weep, enjoy. I certainly did. Oh, and there's not really any smut, just a head's up.

CLARY 

For a moment, he took her in, assessing her injuries. “Jace.” she began, unsure of what else to say, struggling into a sitting position against the bed frame. Before she could continue, he had closed the distance between them, sweeping her into his arms in one fluid motion as only Jace could. Clary shivered, but not from the chill of the air. Jace’s arms around her were deliciously warm, burning away the icy pit she’d had in her stomach ever since waking up. And he kissed her, and the fire spread. 

The kiss began slow, aching, and Clary could sense the pain behind it. This was a kiss where he had thought there would be no more. This was a kiss of reunion. “Clary…” he whispered. “I love you so, so much.”

Surprised, Clary felt a drop of warm wetness catch between their cheeks. Her heart contracted. He was crying. It was rare, even with her, that he should be so open about his emotion, but he seemed unable to stop himself. “Jace…” she whispered, pulling away slightly. “I’m so sorry.”  
Jace didn’t respond, only gapped the slight distance she had created between them with growing urgency. The kiss grew hungrier, like Jace wanted nothing more than for them to be able to morph into one, to never be apart again. He lay her down on the bed, trapping her in his arms, pressing his body against hers. Clary did her best to mask a flinch as he pressed against her wound, but Jace picked up on it in the way that only Jace could. Stilling with eerie calm, he froze against her, drawing back to the edge of the bed. She felt his fingers moving under the hem of her shirt, but his face wasn’t hungry, it was businesslike, if not slightly pained. She watched him lift the edge of shirt on the side he clearly remembered she’d been bitten. She could still see the track of a tear on his cheek, though no more fell.

He inhaled sharply when he saw how much the wound had healed. The edges had smoothed out, leaving behind what looked more like deep cuts than puncture wounds. It was even more healed then the last time Clary herself had checked. But still, it hurt, having damaged not just her skin, but scraped her bones and caused internal bleeding. Each tooth mark was surrounded by a blossom of bruising which could have been described as beautiful if it weren’t so grotesque, coloring her pale skin. Jace just stared down at it, speechless. She wondered what he was thinking about- how fast it had healed, or watching her recieve it. 

“It doesn’t really hurt,” she began, trying to decode his silence. “They gave me a rune for pain when I first… woke up.” Silently, she cursed herself for mentioning it. He still refused to meet her eyes. Then, very slowly, he leaned down and kissed her, sweetly, lightly, on the wound, reaching up to entwine his hand with hers. 

“Please come back,” she said very quietly. He met her eyes finally, and his burned with an unanticipated intensity. But still he climbed gently into the bed next to her, wrapping an arm around her, drawing her to his side. Clary could feel his heart beating rapidly under her fingertips, his breathing was quick. Surrounded by the comfort and safety of his arms, Clary could feel herself begin to drift off to sleep, exhausted from the drama of the day and even the Silent Brother’s investigations. 

“What was it like?” his question surprised her, he had been so taciturn until then. She couldn’t turn and look at him in the circle of his arms, so she took one of his hands instead, tracing the scars running along it at all angles. Silver and gold, she mused, the scars and the skin. 

“Jace, we don’t have to talk about it.” she said finally.

“But I need to know.” There was a quiet gravity behind his words that compelled her to speak. She drew in a shuddering breath, perhaps a preface of tears to come, and began. 

“Well, I remember the fight. I remember being injured, I remember you holding me… and telling me you loved me.” Her breathing hitched infinitessimally- tears would only make this worse. For both of them. She swallowed, and continued. “Then, it was dark. I know it’s cliche, but that was really all it was. Dark, and warm, like a summer night. I was drifting- almost peaceful, you know? But then all of the sudden, I was drowning. Like being pulled underwater. I felt the need to breath, again, but I couldn’t. It was dark, and I couldn’t breath. And then I thought of you.” She felt his chest rise rapidly beside her, but persisted. “You were just… too much light for all that darkness. And suddenly, there was light. And air, and sound. And several very confused Silent Brothers.” She turned to him, smiling, but found him looking at her strangely, eyes low and burning like the embers of a fire. 

“Clary…” he began, moving his face closer to hers. “What it was like, to hold you in my arms, and watch you die… totally helpless, totally useless, totally alone… to think that that one kiss would be our last, that one sentence the last thing you would ever say to me… I can’t describe it. I’ll live my entire life with you and never forget it. It tore me apart.” he paused, pressing his eyes closed. “I love you more than you could possibly imagine. I realized, in that time, that it is impossible for me to face a single day without you, much less a lifetime. So whatever the hell it is that brought you back to me, I don’t care. But, by the Angel, I will earn this second chance. Just… promise me you’ll never leave me again. Promise me that.” 

His eye burst open again then, sparkling with unshed tears. Clary was certain she’d never seen anything more beautiful. The artist in her longed for paints, colored pencils, anything to capture them forever, but realistically, she knew she never could. Something so burning and bright and alive could never be captured in two dimensions. She realized then that he was waiting for a response. And she knew it went against reasonable thought, to promise something like that. Especially when her life was what it was- bloodshed and battle and demons. But something in the desperation in his voice, the fire in his eyes, told her that reasonable thought wasn’t necessary here. She would never love anyone else, certainly not in the way she loved him, and besides, she never wanted to. So it was easy enough for her to say-

“I promise.”

And then, she reached up and tangled her fingers in his hair, bringing their mouths together for one brief, burning kiss, and then burying her face in his shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent- black pepper, citrus, soap, sweat, and something distinctly masculine and very Jace running under it all. She hadn’t even stopped to think about it, but she had missed him, even as she was dying and in the darkness that followed. Her hands shook slightly, and she felt the tears bubble up, uninvited, and begin to spill out. She felt vaguely guilty about soaking the shoulder of Jace’s shirt, and pulled back, sniffling pathetically, and laughed faintly. 

“Sorry… I should go get tissues.” she murmured indistinctly, but she was unsurprised when his arms tightened around her, locking her in place. 

“Tears or no tears,” he said, voice rumbling softly against her back. “I don’t intend to let go of you for quite a while.” A hint of the old playboy Jace was woven into his voice, and she grinned against him, the tears shining on her cheeks becoming joyful. 

“So you’ll stay?” she whispered, fading quickly into sleep. “You promise?” 

Now it was his turn to smile. “I promise.” he whispered back, kissing the top of her head and loosing one of his hands to run through her hair. And they fell asleep like that- warm, and exhausted, and together.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit 'o Malec fluff, then I swear we'll get to the plot. If you don't like Malec (for some reason) you can probably skip this chapter without missing any major details, but obviously as the author I can't condone it :)

ALEC 

Alec closed the door to the Infirmary behind him, shaking his head at the two faces outside. They had waited, giving Jace and Clary their space, before going in, but now it seemed they had waited too long. A bizarrely touching tableau had met Alec’s eyes upon entering the room- both of them sound asleep, in the early evening, in Clary’s narrow hospital bed, a warm mess of limbs and blankets. And he couldn’t bring himself to wake them, although he wanted to speak to them both. He could do it in the morning. And besides, he didn’t blame them for falling asleep. Both emotionally and psychically, he was exhausted. Probably a side effect of battling several demons, losing a close friend, and gaining that same friend back all in the same day. 

Turning to lead the others down the hallway, he felt as if each step was grinding him into the floor itself. Now that the adrenaline of the situation was wearing off, as well as his battle runes for strength and stamina, he felt exhaustion coming on fast. 

“Magnus-” he turned to address his boyfriend, but found him missing. Isabelle was gone as well, presumably to bed. The day had taken just as much of a toll on her as it had on him. Maybe Magnus had gone home as well. Alec couldn’t blame him- all he’d done was wait around all day in case they needed him- and the time of the High Warlock of Brooklyn was valuable. Too valuable to have been spent anxiously holding hands with Alec as they walked Jace back to the Institute, or watching Alec pace outside of the infirmary. Alec deflated. He’d probably gone home. And he knew that it didn’t really make sense, but he’d hoped-

“Alec?” a voice called to him from further down the hallway. Magnus. Immediately, Alec straightened up, hurrying down the hallway to find the source of the voice. He picked his way past the staircase, taking a left towards the hallway that held their bedrooms. Not surprisingly, he found Magnus inside of his. He was staring up at the smattering of artifacts on Alec’s shelves. His room was not meticulously neat like Jace’s, nor was it as chaotic as Isabelle’s. It was very… Alec. 

“Magnus. You disappeared.” Alec said, allowing a little bit of his relief to leak into his voice. 

Magnus turned, his expression unreadable. 

“I’m a warlock. We do that.” His voice held traces of humor, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Magic?” 

“Side door.”

Now it was Alec’s turn to grin, but he didn’t have the energy. Instead, he collapsed against the bed, pulling a surprised Magnus down with him. Magnus didn’t protest, but sat up, resting Alec’s head on his lap. Absentmindedly, he ran his fingers through Alec’s dark hair, drawing it up out of his eyes. His cat’s eyes glittered distantly. never quite meeting Alec’s. Alec pulled himself up into a sitting position next to him. 

“What’s the matter?” He asked quietly, focusing his eyes on Magnus’s fingers, entwined with his. He could feel Magnus pulling away from him, as he always did when he didn’t want to share something. 

“Nothing,” he said, but before Alec could protest, he extenuated. “At least, it should be nothing.” Alec met his eyes curiously, unsure of where he was going. Magnus sighed. “Alexander, I’m immortal.” Alec’s gaze turned from one of curiosity to one of cold apprehension.

“I’m aware.” he said flatly, but Magnus continued.

“I’ve known thousands of people who’ve died. Werewolves, shadowhunters, even other warlocks. And I’m not saying I’m numb to it, it’s just… I’ve also seen a thousand different reactions to death. All the stages- bargaining, denial, whatever. But Jace today- when he thought Clary was dead- he just became… purposeless. Like he lost the will to live entirely, like he had nothing left to live for. And I know, maybe, with you and Isabelle, he could have gotten over it eventually. But never truly. He would always be empty inside. Half of a whole. And I worry, because…” Magnus trailed off, lifting his hand to Alec’s face. “Because that’s the way that I love you. Entirely.”

“Magnus-” Alec interrupted, but was cut off. 

“The difference is, for them, this was an accident. A horrible twist of circumstance. They were supposed to grow old together. Have children. For us it’s an inevitability- that one day, whether it’s in twenty years or eighty, you’re going to die, and I’m going to be alone, and broken.” His eyes burned cold into Alec’s, and he released his face. “That’s what is the matter.” He turned, sitting at the edge of the bed, preparing as if to leave. 

 

“Stop.” Alec said softly, reaching out to tug Magnus back onto the bed. Magnus ignored his pull, but turned to face him. “I know. Everything that you’ve said is true and I know that. But we’ve always known that. So if you weigh this relationship and decide it’s not worth the heartbreak, then you’re free to go. I won’t stop you. But you may not use what happened today as an excuse to pull away from me, do you understand? I… I need you.” Alec drew in a breath. “I want you to stay.” It was so vulnerable, that one statement. His instincts had fought him, telling him not to say it. But he had ignored them. And now his cards were on the table, and Magnus was silent. 

“You want me to stay, or you need me to stay?” Magnus replied. “In case something goes wrong and you need your speed-dial warlock?” Under normal circumstances, Alec would have flinched at the words, but he could sense the hollowness behind them. Instead, he moved closer to Magnus, their faces inches apart in the dimly lit bedroom. 

“I need you to stay.” he said quietly. “But not because you’re a warlock. Because you’re Magnus and I love you, and I’m exhausted and I don’t want you to go.” And he closed the distance between them, pulling Magnus in for a sweet, growingly familiar kiss. Magnus softened finally, wrapping his arms around Alec. 

“Then,” he murmured against Alec’s mouth. “I’ll stay.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes the plot (da da da da). Seems as if our poor friends aren't out of trouble just yet. Also, the lack of italics is really killing my telepathic dialogue (file that under the list of things I never thought I'd say) so bear with me grammatically.

CLARY 

Clary was flat on her back on the floor of the warehouse. She was shivering all over- it was cold, colder than she’d remembered it being even earlier that day. Dust and what felt like snow drifted on the floor next to her with the breeze- a breeze that felt like it originated somewhere nearby. Sitting up, she felt her whole body flash-freeze, like someone had replaced the blood in her veins with ice. A demon towered overtop of her, black and hulking and terrible. Not a demon, she corrected herself. The demon. The cold air in the room seemed to be centered around it, like it was some kind of polar vortex. Clary’s heart rate increased, memories of earlier that day flashing back to her in rapid succession. Her being bitten, the blackout, the brightness that brought her back and Jace, Jace throughout all of it. 

But it was too lucid, too real. She remembered them as just that- memories. She knew she wasn’t in the warehouse. She knew that this demon wasn’t real. 

'Well yes. And no.' A voice, clearly emanating from the demon, rose up in her mind. It communicated like the Silent Brothers did, mental but distinct, and this voice sent shards of ice down her spine, like a cacophony of fingernails scraping glass. Clary clapped her hands over her ears irrationally to block it out, but the demon only laughed. If it was possible, this sound was even worse than the last- a loud, concentrated burst of mental dissonance. 'Yes, you are not in the warehouse. But no, I assure you, I am quite real.'

Fighting off a wave of nausea, Clary stood up. “You’re a dream.” she said, with courage she hadn’t known she’d possessed. She felt like a young child, doing a stranger danger drill in school. ‘No, I won’t get in your van with you, even if you have candy and puppies. Good day, sir.’

“You’re a dream and nothing more.”

The demon just laughed again, and Clary gritted her teeth, wincing. 'If I’m just a dream, how can I do… this?' And the demon surged upon her, reaching out one large claw before she react. With the speed and deadly sharpness of a singing blade, the claw sliced through the front of Clary’s shirt, carving a long thin line in her stomach. The cut immediately welled up with blood, staining through her shirt. Clary cried out, but fruitlessly.

'Goodbye, Clarissa Morgenstern.' The demon cackled as it surged up before her. 'We’ll meet again.'

And then she screamed as it engulfed her in blackness.


	11. Chapter 11

JACE 

“Clary!” he shouted urgently, turning to face her directly. She didn’t wake up. It had been the shivering which had awoken him, thinking that he’d tossed the blankets off somehow. But they were both covered in blankets up their shoulders, so he’d known something was amiss.Then her heart rate had begun to increase, and she had broken out into a cold sweat as if she had a fever. Nightmares, he thought. It had to be nightmares. Any other possibility was inexplorably painful. So he had set about waking her up. Then the screaming began. 

“Clary, please!” he shouted, shaking her shoulders gently but urgently. “Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” And suddenly, she woke with a gasp, calling out his name, breathing panicked as she took in the sheer darkness of the room. It was the middle of the night, but Jace’s Shadowhunter eyes had adjusted with catlike nightvision. Clary’s would have soon followed, but he spared her the wait time by grabbing his witchlight off the nightstand. 

“Clary?” he asked quietly as the light illuminated her face, blinding him and throwing sharp edges on all the objects in the room. Clary’s hair was shining and wild in the white light, her eyes wide and unfocused. “It was just a nightmare.”

“Jace.” the word was a sob of relief, and she collapsed against him. Then, with an odd stillness, she froze, and sat back up. “Jace?” This time it was a question, and he looked on in subdued horror as she reached under the covers to lay a hand on her stomach. It came back red. 

With a leap, Jace switched on the lights, then flew back to Clary, tossing off the covers to inspect her. Immediately, his heart sank. It was not, as he had suspected, a reopening of her old bite wound, but rather an entirely new wound, running vertically from her ribcage to her navel. A wound which she had received since they’d gone to bed that night. 

“Clary,” he breathed, “what the hell happened?” Clary sat up as if to explain, but blood only soaked further along the gash in the T-shirt. She winced. With gentle force, he shoved her back down onto the bed. After quickly rummaging through the bedside drawer for a stele, he sketched an iratze in between her fading bite mark scars and the newly formed gash along her abdomen. Thankfully, it took, and began fading immediately, the blood flow from the wound staunching rapidly. Jace exhaled. Clary was propped up delicately against a pillow, seemingly trying not to move and cause any further damage. Seeing her in so much pain, twice in a row, it made him ill. Clearly, however, the healing rune was going it’s job, and color was returning to Clary’s cheeks, though the shell shocked look remained. Now that the initial panic of the injury was gone, Jace looked equal parts relieved and completely frenzied.


	12. Chapter 12

CLARY 

“What,” he began, voice low and deadly, with an edge of raw concern, “happened.” He scanned the room, almost hopeful. “Do I have to stab someone?” Coming from anyone else’s boyfriend than Clary’s this would seem like a joke. But Jace had fire in his eyes, which said that whoever had cut her wasn’t going to get a 'strike two'. She shivered. She was freezing, even in the bed with the blankets pulled around her like a cocoon. She tried to ignore the fact that she was probably dirtying them with her blood- it was too late for such concerns. The cut, while not particularly deep, had certainly served it’s purpose. For the first time since she had been attacked by the demon, she was scared. Terrified. And she wasn’t even sure how to explain it. 

“Stabbing someone would be a bit counterproductive,” she said, intending her voice to sound casual, but failing and landing on forced. “seeing as I’m the problem.” Jace’s eyes darkened, and he moved back over to the bed, resting on the end of it, eyes drawn to the red splotches in several places. He didn’t really calm down, only seemed to center his chaos, and his eyes still burned as he gazed back at her questioningly. 

Clary sighed, and glanced down at her stomach before continuing. The angry wound had faded into a shallow cut, but still stung as she sat up slightly. Unlike her dream, the fabric of her shirt hadn’t been ripped, only streaked with blood where it had bled through. She longed to shed it, to fall back asleep in Jace’s arms, but she knew she wouldn’t be sleeping peacefully for a long time. Jace was still staring bleakly at her when she glanced back up, his mouth carefully closed. A muscle jumped in his neck, and he seemed almost perched on the edge of the bed, balanced delicately as if ready to take flight if necessary. But he had stopped searching the room for threats and began silently examining her. As the seconds passed, his eyebrows knit together. 

“I was having this… dream. A nightmare. I was back in that warehouse, with that demon. But it didn’t feel like a nightmare, Jace. I remembered the fight earlier that day, I remembered waking up, and I remembered falling asleep. And just as I was thinking that- that it was a dream, it wasn’t real- the demon spoke to me. In my mind, like a Silent Brother,” she swallowed, shuddering slightly at the memory of the demon’s voice, cold and grating in her mind. “And none of this is totally outside of the realm of possibility for a nightmare, I know. But he said that he was real, and he could prove it to me. And he reached out, and he… cut me, on the stomach.” Jace’s eyes darkened with growing realization.

Clary cleared her throat once more, her voice coming out quite small against her will. 

“And he said we’d meet again.”

Jace sat frozen for a moment, as if concentrating. Then he hung his head, and Clary remembered for a moment that despite all his stamina and his strength, he was exhausted. Drained. From the demon battle, and from the emotions that he fought with constantly. Her heart contracted, knowing that the dark circles under his eyes were because of her. If she could, she would let him sleep until morning. But she knew that he wouldn’t rest until they figured out what was wrong with her. Her warrior. Her Jace. 

But how do you fight a nightmare? Clary thought hopelessly, and she knew Jace’s mind was in the same place. Knowing it would prove fruitless, she reached out, caressing his face and pleading, lifting his eyes to hers. 

“You could go back to sleep,” she whispered. “We could deal with this in the morning. Please, you’re exhausted.” 

Jace’s eyes grew colder, and he huffed a short laugh. “You think I’m exhausted.” he muttered flatly. “And you died today.” 

“They say it’s a lot like falling asleep.” Clary replied, trying to lighten things up. But seeing the way he flinched when she said it, her tone grew more serious. “Jace. Whatever it is, there’s nothing you can do right now, so please get some sleep.” 

Jace seemed to be shaking slightly. “I know there’s nothing I can do.” he said, voice tremoring quietly. “I’m just so sick of not being able to do anything. Sitting here while you get hurt, and being unable to help you.” Clary inched forward, taking his face in both of her hands, and he let her, closing his eyes. His skin was warm, warmer than her hands, but he didn’t flinch at the contact. “I’m not sure if I can take much more of it. It’s torture.” And this, too, was torture, the same torture, because there was nothing she could say to comfort him, no apology he would accept.

He opened his eyes then, taking her hands in his. “And I know what you’re going to say, so don’t even try to apologize. This isn’t in any way your fault. I just wish it wasn’t happening.” he sighed, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed. “Time to find Magnus.” he stated, matter of factly, all evidence of his recent vulnerability vanished. “It would seem we have a demon problem.”


	13. Chapter 13

ALEC 

“Demon problems,” Magnus wrinkled his nose, looking even more catlike than usual curled up in Alec’s sheets. “I just call them daddy issues.” 

_“Magnus.”_ Jace’s voice was deadly, and Alec could see the dark circles under his eyes, made darker by shadows thrown onto him from the dim lighting. Moments ago, he had been thankful for it. Luckily, him and Magnus had been sleeping, tangled together warmly, and nothing more incriminating when Jace had none-too-subtly burst in, flipping on the lamp. Still, he’d had to suppress a yelp and the instinct to cover up, despite the fact that he was once again fully clothed. Jace, who’d normally be loathe to miss an opportunity to antagonize Alec about the furious blush he was currently sporting, had basically ignored him in a way that told him it could only be about one thing- Clary. Something was wrong with Clary. 

“Fine, fine.” Magnus acquiesced, casually pulling on a pair of dark purple skinny jeans from their position on the floor. Alec blushed further, but rose as well, pulling his own pants on and reaching for his gear belt. Jace held up a hand to stop him. 

“Not that kind of demon problem.” there was an edge to his voice, which seemed to drain the humor out of it. Frowning, Alec set the gear belt back down, and followed Jace down the hallway. He was surprised to see it was still dark.

“Mom? Isabelle?” he asked quietly, glancing at the darkened doorways. 

“Isabelle is asleep. I don’t want to wake her if I don’t have to. Mom is downstairs, waiting for Luke and Jocelyn to arrive.” he replied without turning around. 

“Jace.” Alec reached out, grabbing him by the shoulder. “What is going on?” Jace paused, tilting his head to the side, but still not fully facing Alec. 

“I’m not sure.” 

And the uncertainty in his voice was enough to keep Alec quiet for the rest of the way through the halls. When they reached the Infirmary, Alec was startled to see the sheets of one of the beds, the one he had seen Clary and Jace laying in earlier, stained with blood. Clary was off the side, standing to talk to Magnus, a wadded shirt splashed with red clutched in one of her hands. He gasped, closing the gap between them in several steps. 

 

“First things first- Clary, good to see you alive. Don’t scare me like that again, biscuit.” Magnus’ tone was casual, but Alec could sense the sentiment underneath it. It was still bizarre to him that Magnus had known Clary as a child, even watched her grow up. There was a certain affection in his voice that he seemed to hold for very few people- Alec himself included. It occurred to him that not only Jace had suffered that day, but he’d been too exhausted and worried to pick up on it. “Secondly, I’d love to know just exactly what happened here.” Alec seconded him silently, moving to stand shoulder to shoulder with Magnus as Clary began her story. Though Alec hadn’t known Clary for as long as Magnus, or loved her as much as Jace, she had become a part of his life, and it was a relief to see her standing, speaking, more than he had thought it would be. 

As she finished telling the story, she sat down on a nearby bed, as if recounting the story exhausted her. And it was true, she looked exhausted. They all did. Even Magnus’ eyes, which looked large and vulnerable without eyeliner or glitter, were smudged with sleep. And there was a certain, deeper restlessness he saw in Clary which spoke of having one’s only sleep interrupted by nightmares. Jace paced the room behind them, and her eyes traced his path worriedly. 

Magnus sat back thoughtfully. His eyes grew distant, and Alec could tell that he was trying to remember if he had ever encountered anything similar. His fingers skimmed Alec’s where they met, but his eyes skimmed decades, lives Alec still didn’t know about, might never know about. Suddenly, his eyes focused, meeting Alec’s with warm curiosity. Alec shook his head slightly and Magnus turned to face Jace and Clary at the same time. 

“I’ve never seen this happen before,” he began, “but I have heard of something similar.” Jace exhaled infinitessimally, resting against the bedframe. Clary leaned back slightly, brushing him with her shoulders, and he ran a hand through her hair, bending down to kiss her on top of the head. Alec begrudged them the affection, not just because he no longer resented Clary for the way Jace loved her. He had a similar love of his own now. He saw in Jace’s eyes the uncertainty of having watched his world fall apart once that day, and being terrified that it was happening again. Jace nodded at Magnus, who continued. 

“There was a Shadowhunter, several centuries ago. I never met him, no one you’ve ever met ever met him. But he came to a warlock who I knew for help. He had battled a demon not unlike the one you described, and after he was bitten and recovered, he began having nightmares. Nightmares that bled into reality. The demon poison had entered his bloodstream, and the demon was able to… manipulate his body remotely. Injure him, make him ill. So he sought help in finding a way to fix the problem- to eradicate the poison, or to eliminate the demon who was causing the problem.” Magnus swallowed, glancing up at Jace, finding his unspoken question there- _And?_

“First, the warlock tried to remove the demon poison from the Shadowhunter’s bloodstream. It… didn’t work.” Magnus winced. “The damage of the bite returned, but didn’t respond to healing runes or herbs. It was as if the demon poison was keeping the wound healed, and when you removed it, it was reverted. So they tried another method. He- the Shadowhunter- decided to summon the demon, using it’s own poison, and kill it. He thought that once it was dead, the thing would lose it’s power over him. And it’s possible he was right.” Magnus began, trying to sound upbeat. “But summoning a demon of that strength- one that can control dreams, can torment someone from afar like that- it’s dangerous. Extremely dangerous. And the warlock refused to help him do it. But this Shadowhunter-” he glanced at Clary who looked very pale. She set her jaw. “He was being driven mad. And every time he slept, the injuries were getting worse. So he summoned the demon himself- haphazardly, improperly. And it consumed him.” Magnus paused, surveying the room. His eyes skimmed from Alec’s wide-eyed bewilderment to Clary’s exhaustion to Jace’s poorly concealed panic. 

But before any of them could reply, the door flew open behind them.


End file.
